


if we only die once, i wanna die with you

by Murf1307



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Everything Hurts, Last words, M/M, POV Character of Color, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4062184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soul mates only come around so often, and the thing that hurts the worst is knowing that it's over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if we only die once, i wanna die with you

**Author's Note:**

> written for that AU where your soul mate tattoo is the last thing your soul mate will ever say to you. because i am a terrible human being who is going to mutant hell for a multitude of reasons.

Armando's soul mate tattoo is printed around his left thigh like a garter, a cursive sentence that reads, "Don't beat yourself up; I've had a lot of spare time."

He likes that.  It means that whoever it is, they're probably going to live a good long life, either with him or without, and at the end of their time together, they're going to comfort him.  At least, that's how it seems, and when the world gets impossibly dark and cold, he knows he's got to make it out, either by dint of who and what he is, or because he hasn't heard those words yet.

And while he's not the kind to jump into things, there's something about Alex Summers that sort of makes him wish he was.  The guy does have a soul mate -- the tattoo is plainly visible, climbing the side of his neck.  All it reads is his name.

So, maybe.  Because Alex definitely has a soul mate, and he's pretty and quiet and cares too much.  Armando can relate, and it opens something a little aching in him.

They fall in thick as thieves from the first.  While Xavier and Lensherr are still building the team, they have a certain gravity, and that gives Armando a little hope, too.  And hope's a little rare for him, really.  Mostly, the best he's got is the certainty that he'll make it out alive and unhurt, because he always has before.

The only kind of hurt he's ever gotten is the kind only words and intentions can burn into you, and it can cut the hope out of you young if you let it.  But it's been years since he left his mother's apartment in Harlem to strike it out on his own.  And while there are a lot of awful folks in the world, there are more people who're kind and polite, people worth the bad ones.

The team that's being knit together here's made of the second kind, he thinks, while too many of the CIA agents around them are the first.

Alex especially -- his fear comes out of caring, not wanting to hurt anyone else.  And Armando's pretty sure Alex can't hurt him, and once Alex knows that, it's like a damn breaks, and he's not so distant.

He gets to slip into Alex's space a little more, gets to stand close at the pinball machine, and favor him with a lot of friendly touches.  A hand on Alex's arm, a gentle shove, a companionable arm around his shoulders now and then.  It's easy between them, and Armando likes that.  He likes that this, between them, is easy, because facing the world with it wouldn't be, if they ever become something besides good friends.

He wouldn't mind that, not at all.  Because Alex is most of the things Armando would want out of a partner, and probably a lover too.  And sometimes, the way Alex looks at him makes him wonder.

Presently, they're at the pinball machine.  Alex is winning, like he has the last twenty games they've played.

"Jesus, man, you are killing me," Armando says, grinning.

"Don't beat yourself up; I've had a lot of spare time."

Armando's mouth is dry and his stomach drops, but he keeps up a smile, just shaking his head.  He'd known, he'd known.  

Alex's name dances on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't say it.  He can't, it's not time yet.  It can't be time yet, they're in a goddamn government base, they should be safe here.

"What was that?" he says instead when he hears a low, heavy thud that sounds like it came from the roof.  He turns, dragging his hand across Alex's stomach, half-direction and half because he wants to touch him before it all goes wrong, and he moves to the window.

Part of him hopes desperately that Alex will say something else, but he can't think about that now, as men fall out of the sky and a man who looks like the devil starts killing people in front of them.  He's got a job to do, he's the only one here who can protect these people, and that's only if he's paying attention.

He locks eyes with Alex twice, so Alex knows what to do next -- how, exactly, he's not sure.  But all it takes is a look and Alex knows the score.

Angel betrays them all, won over by Shaw's promises of wealth and safety and power.  Armando's disappointed, but doesn't blame her.

Raven says, a little anguished, "We have to do something."

That's when the idea sinks into his gut like lead.  He knows where this leads, and the plan forms in his head as he starts moving.

He turns to Alex, meets his eyes, grabs his wrist.  Alex gets it, looks betrayed for a minute, and Armando has to move his hand under Alex's ribs as they tussle a little, and then Alex _gets it._

Armando says, "Wait," to Shaw, and he plays the game, plays the politics as he feels the sand run down to the bottom of the hourglass of his life.

He stands by Angel, and, well, at least he knows exactly what to say.


End file.
